


Say Yes

by havetaoque



Series: Spideypool stories [10]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bargains, Drunk Peter, Fluff, Happy, Humor, Identity Reveal, Kissing, M/M, Proposals, Wade Is A Gentleman, feeding ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: So what if Peter proposed a couple times? He was drunk.





	Say Yes

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I needed fluff. Limb-Reattacher is so angsty right now. So here is silly fluff.

Okay, well shit. He _might_ be a little drunk.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Peter said. Might as well go all in at this point. It wasn’t like he’d ever visit this bar again or see this man again. Peter didn’t stop to think why that bothered him though. He knocked back his last tequila shot, dispensing with the lime and salt, and pulled a face. “’M gonna marry you. Just you wait.”

“Sure, kid,” the man said, chuckling.

Oh fuck, why was he so gorgeous? Peter squinted at him. He had a dusting of stubble on his jaw that Peter wanted to lick really badly. It would probably feel like sandpaper, but his tongue was already raw from licking up salt and he bet the guy’s skin tasted good – in a completely non-cannibalistic way. Wait, that wasn’t part of the spider powers, was it? Peter shivered. Ugh.

“Give him another!” someone yelled. Peter heard liquid splashing into an empty glass. The next instant another drink was being shoved in his face by a burly Gandalf-looking man, but his newly claimed sexy fiancée intercepted the glass. Peter whined.

“The challenge is over. I think it’s obvious he’s left us in the dust,” the man declared. He knocked back the drink himself, smirking at Peter’s mournful expression. “Kid, I can’t even begin to imagine how the fuck you’re still upright. You just outdrank Georgie and no one outdrinks Georgie. You deserve a fucking gold medal.” He paused, considering. “Also probably a new liver from the sheer amount of alcohol you just consumed. Gee, I feel kind of responsible. If I die young, you can have my liver. Pinky promise. You’re not going to drown in your own vomit tonight, are you? Please don’t do that.”

Peter shook his head and grinned. “Nope. Can’t. I got a quiz tomorrow.”

“You’ve got a quiz tomorrow. What the fuck? How old are you? WEASEL.”

“Yeah?” Weasel drifted over, drying a glass on a clean towel.

“Did you card him?”

“Him? Fuck yes. Kid looks like he’s twelve…Drinks like an elephant. He’s legal though.” He shrugged and headed back to the sink.

Wade pulled his coat on. “I’m gonna walk you home, kid.”

Peter nodded and pressed against the man’s side like a limpet until the man was forced to wrap an arm around him to keep his circulation going.

“’M not a kid, you know,” Peter said, when they’d left the bar behind. “I’m in college.”

The man snorted. “That’s still pretty fucking young. But hey, enjoy it while you can. You only live once.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “What’s your name?”

“I’m offended – you’ve proposed multiple times and yet you’ve already forgotten my name.”

Peter giggled. “Well, I’m asking now, aren’t I?”

“This would be the sixth time tonight, if I remember correctly. It’s Wade.”

Peter sighed happily and leaned his head on Wade’s shoulder. They continued to walk for a few more blocks before Peter stood a little straighter and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment instead of alcohol.

His metabolism was working off the alcohol quickly. He cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times. Yup, all good.

Wade noticed his change in body language and slowed to a stop. “Alright there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, without a hint of slurring. He glanced up at Wade and flushed a red that would rival his costume. “Shit. I am such an idiot. I’m so sorry, man.”

“What for?” Wade asked, smiling. “You think I’m gonna complain about getting hit on by a cute guy like you?” His voice dropped a little lower and Peter shivered. “If you weren’t drunk, I’d take you back to my place now and fuck you.”

“You sure don’t beat around the bush,” Peter said, taking a step forward. “And to be clear, I’m not drunk anymore.”

“Pretty sure you were like five minutes ago. You don’t sober up that fast.”

“I do,” Peter said, feeling bold (and really stupid, stop talking, Parker!). He stepped into Wade’s space and settled his hand on his neck. Wade eyed his lips for a split second before they kissing, and it was all tequila and smoke and whatever else the guys at the bar had been buying for Peter, but Peter hadn’t felt this alive since he lost it all in the clock tower, and he didn’t want to stop now. He parted his lips, tongue darting out to brush against Wade’s lower lip, and Wade moaned and slid his hands to Peter’s ass, squeezing, and pulling him hard against him. Peter slipped his tongue inside Wade’s mouth and they kissed, wet and sloppy, until they were both breathless.

He pulled back, panting, and pressed his forehead to Wade’s. “So gorgeous,” he murmured against his jaw, _finally_ tasting the skin there. “You sure you don’t wanna accept my proposal?” he joked. That startled a laugh from Wade.

“Buy me dinner first,” Wade said. He leaned in for one more kiss, lingering a moment before standing back.

“Deal,” Peter said. “I hope you like Mexican.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

They walked the rest of the way to Peter’s apartment, arms linked, in comfortable silence. When they arrived at the steps, Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out his merc business card. “Call me,” he said, winking.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter spent over three hours debating what to wear on his date with Wade. When he finally settled on a pair of dark wash jeans and a Henley, he picked up his phone and dialed the number on Wade’s card. It went straight to voicemail.

His phone had probably just died.

Peter waited until that evening and tried again.

He didn’t want to seem too desperate, so he waited another week before he tried calling Wade.

After three weeks, he gave up.

 

* * *

 

 

Three years later, Spiderman met Deadpool. They ate Mexican takeout on rooftops and made jokes. They teamed up to patrol the city and occasionally fought each other. Spidey didn’t mind Deadpool’s skin and Deadpool didn’t pry into Spidey’s secret identity. They didn’t talk about their personal lives.

Somewhere along the way, they fell in love, but because they were both idiots, they punched each other and played on the swings at 3AM and fed ducks in Central Park.  

They did not talk about feelings.

But one day…

“So, Spidey, you got anyone special?” Deadpool asked, nudging his shoulder.

“Nah,” Peter said, tossing some canned corn into the grass, watching the ducks compete with the pigeons. “Though actually.” He laughed and shook his head.

“What?”

“Nah, it’s silly. I was so drunk. I proposed to this really hot guy I met in a bar and I was so embarrassed after, but he gave me his number. But then he never returned my calls.” Peter slumped on the bench. He hadn’t thought about Wade in a long time, but now the memory made him kind of sad.

“Sounds like a pretty stupid guy then,” Deadpool said carefully.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “Sucks though. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. He was probably just being nice, taking pity on my skinny ass.”

“I’d take your ass anywhere,” Deadpool said confidently, wiggling his eyebrows beneath his mask. But he put his arm around Spidey and gave him a gentle squeeze. “What was his name? Should I go kick his ass?”

“Wade,” Peter said. Wade stiffened beside him. “But you don’t have to go after him for me. Thanks, though. He was actually a real gentleman. Didn’t try to take me home. He walked me home from the bar instead.”

Wade forced himself not to react. He sat next to Spidey – _Peter?_ – and watched the ducks. Peter had called him gorgeous back then. Before. Wade swallowed hard. Well, he’d sure never get that proposal again. He should have said yes! He cursed his luck.

And he’d keep on cursing his luck, apparently.

“That was me,” he mumbled.

Peter turned to him. “What?”

“Never mind! Forget I said it!”

“No, tell me! What was you?”

“Heh, I think I left the stove on. Gotta go, Spidey.”

“Hey, wait!” Peter webbed his feet to the ground and sat on his chest when Deadpool fell over. “Is it really you?”

“Nah. It’s not. Can you get off me? I actually did leave the stove on.”

“No you didn’t.” Peter planted himself firmly.

“Uh, Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Wade.”

“What?”

“Aha! It is you! Why didn’t you call me back?” Peter smacked him and crossed his arms to glare at the merc trapped beneath him. “Oh, shit, was… was it because of…”

“Yeah. I mean, probably. Wait, what were you going to say?”

“What were _you_ going to say?”

“The thing.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Glad that’s sorted out,” Wade said, trying to sit up. He patted Peter’s thigh. “Can you get off me now?”

“No, we’re not done,” Peter said. He pushed him back down and Wade went with a grunt.

“What now?”

Peter pulled off his mask. “Will you marry me, Wade?”

“Shit you’re hotter than I remember.”

“Is that a yes or no?” Peter asked, crossing his arms again.

“It’s a buy me dinner first. And a get off my chest.”

Peter leapt lightly to his feet and offered Wade a hand to stand. His feet were still webbed to the ground, so Peter bent down and ripped the webs away. While he was down on the ground, he dropped to one knee and tried again.

“Marry me?”

“Dinner first.”

“I just paid for the takeout tonight though.”

“That doesn’t count, Peter!”

“I have been buying you dinners for almost a year!”

“Well I didn’t know it was _you_!”

“Wade! Just fucking say yes!”

“You promised me dinner first!”

“Well we can’t have dinner now. It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yes we can. We totally can.”

“Ha! You said ‘yes’. I win! We’re getting married!”

“I still want dinner!”


End file.
